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Chapter 11: Messy Reunion

Paris, France, 1930

Versailles Palace was grand and elegant. Chandeliers hanging from every ceiling and fantastic hallways ran through the whole place. It was the home of her ancestors. And, it was intended, this would be their new home.

Marion knew she wasn't suited for this life. She would be expected to be as grand and elegant as her new home. She would be sheltered and protected, expected to marry whoever her father chose and give birth to the heir to this throne. People would be known to suffer under the name of Ravenwood.

Marion slipped into her father's new study. The old fool had the Royal Psalms sitting on a lectern now. It showed just how confident he was, meaning he'd probably found whoever he was looking for. Marion picked the book up and looked them over. She needed to clear out before the bastard was brought in. She would marry only one man. Marion turned and walked down. A maid bowed to her as she walked down the hallway.

'Votre Altesse, Sa Majesté veut que vous soyez equips pour votre robe maintenant.' She spoke in her native French.

Marion stopped. Dress. Marion hated dresses. They were so impractical. You couldn't fight properly without flashing your bloomers. On the rare occasions she did wear them, she wore trousers or something underneath. She had to put on this charade though. Abner wanted them talking in the personal plural as their ancestors did so that these people didn't question them. Marion would humour her for now. 'Nous serons avec vous actuellement. Tout d'abord, nous tenons à poudre le nez.' Yeah, she was really going to the toilet with her father's prized possession tucked under her arm.

'Bien sûr.' The maid bowed and rushed off to Marion's room.

Marion smiled and continued down the hallway. But instead of going to the bathroom as she said she would, she went down to the stables. A young boy smiled shyly. Marion walked over and petted the horse's nose.

'Est-elle prête à aller?' she asked.

'Oui, Votre Altesse,' Jacques said. 'Une balade dans le pays?'

As if she was just taking a ride in the country, but he needed to be convinced. 'Oui.'

'Puis-je demander ce que l'épée et le livre sont pour?'

Marion glanced at the Psalms and le Sabre de Beaumont, which was tied to the saddle. Better to pretend to be innocent. 'Nous aimerions lire alors que nous sommes là-bas. Et notre père n'a pas encore le pouvoir. Nous ne pouvons pas être trop prudent.'

That sounded good, her father not being in power yet so she felt the need for some kind of protection. And it must've been decent. Jacques nodded and stepped back. Marion put the Psalms into the saddle bag and then mounted. She kicked the horse's side and the animal broke into a gallop. Marion easily cleared the Palace gates.

Abner actually thought she didn't understand any of this. I ain't stupid, dad! Marion was headed for Mansion de Boiur. She had to get out of France.

Marrakech, Morocco, 1933

The beating that Indiana Jones was taking, Belloq mused, would have anyone else questioning the American's sanity. Black eye, blood trailing out of his nose and mouth and that was just his face. Yet, Jones had done it. He'd gone and taken the scroll then swapped it for a fake. He'd gotten the real one off to safety somewhere and handed over a counterfeit. And Jones was no fool. More than likely, he knew that this would be the consequence of his actions as well.

Yet, he'd still done it.

Jones had still swindled one of the most rich and powerful men in Morocco. And for nothing more than to preserve the history of the artefact. For nothing more than to let the general public observe the history written in the scroll.

And Belloq was thoroughly enjoying watching Jones get beaten to a bloody pulp, held down by Nazis. Not that he'd admit it to anyone, but Belloq felt threatened by Indiana Jones. The man had more courage, determination and power than Belloq ever had. And both of them knew it. But Belloq would do anything to plant doubt in his mind.

Belloq never saw the female horse rider pass the mouth of the alley and look directly at Jones. He never saw the blue eyes widen in fear, worry and shock. He never saw the mouth set in a firm line and the face compose. He never saw the rider stop her horse and dismount, leading the mare over to a trough of water.

But, then again, nobody saw Marion Ravenwood there.

~NQM~

Marion had been running around for the past three years. Each time she came to a Holy Child's country or continent, they would give her a fresh horse. Now, she'd found what she'd been looking for: Indiana Jones.

But she had to wait. If they attacked her, Marion would bring her sword down on them. They were hurting her Indy. Marion knew that she had to wait for them to leave, though. It actually didn't take them that long. She just stood there, casually petting her horse as she waited.

Once she was sure they were all gone, Marion took the reins and led the animal into the alleyway. She felt a rush of fear when she saw Indy slumped to the ground, but she pushed it aside. She had to be calm.

Marion pulled her first aid kit out of the saddlebag and then she knelt by him. 'Hello, Jones. I didn't expect to see you here.'

Indy didn't respond. Marion rolled him onto his back. He was out cold. She'd tend to the wounds she had to and then she'd sling him over the saddle. Riding would be best.

As it turned out, Jordan Hood and his immortalised paternal aunt owned quite a few properties around the world. All of them disguised as ordinary homes that stood by themselves because they belonged to the very rich. And there was one right here in Marrakech.

Marion would take Indy there and care for him. She picked up his fedora, which had fallen from his head during his beating, and put it on her own head. She then reached down and rubbed her fingers through his hair.

Marion spoke softly. 'You're lucky I'm in love with you, Indiana Jones.

~NQM~

Indy was in pain. That was the first thing he was conscious of. He hurt. It took him a few moments to remember why. Oh. Right. Then he became aware that he was in a dark room in a soft bed and someone else was moving around, someone with a light but determined step. Who was that? Indy opened his good eye and thought he was dreaming when he saw her.

Marion Ravenwood. God, she was even more beautiful than he remembered, if that was even possible. The room they were in was lit only by candlelight and Indy wanted to touch her. His fingers itched to do it. If this was a dream, he knew, Marion would come right into his arms if he called her.

'Marion?'

Okay, not a dream, judging by that glare. 'Oh, are you awake now? Took you long enough.'

'Well, excuse me for being beaten up.' Indy tried to push himself up.

Marion was suddenly there, pushing him back down. 'You even try and get up and I'll just knock you out again.'

Indy winced. She'd do it. He knew his Marion, his princess…which reminded him. He tried to catch her before she could move away again but she was too fast. 'Do you know?'

'Know what?' Marion walked over to the desk and started cutting something up with a knife. 'That I'm the Crown Princess of France. Yes, but France is a Republic.'

'You knew why Kamau gave me those pictures from the start then.' It was a statement of fact, not a question.

'Oh, Indiana Jones.' Marion shook her head in annoyance. 'Would you have believed him if he flat-out told you "the Ravenwoods are directly descended from the French Royal Family"?'

'I know.' Indy looked at her. 'No one would have.' He paused. 'Come here.'

Marion smirked bitterly at him. 'Let's look back at the last time I let you touch me, Jones. I gave you my virginity and then you were outta my life the next morning. No warning, no reason. You didn't leave so much as a goddamn note.'

Indy winced. She was right. All he wanted to do this time was feel her, know she was really there. But he'd lost that right when he disappeared from her life like that. 'I'm sorry.'

Marion scoffed. 'Yeah. Everyone's sorry for something. You're sorry for what you did. Abner's sorry he's not sitting on the Throne of France. I'm sorry I have to run all over this planet so he can't sell me as a wife to some little prick with delusions of grandeur. Leo's sorry that he had to kill Orellana.'

Upon hearing that last one, Indy nearly fell off the bed. Or he felt like he did. He was flat on his back. Indy stared at Marion. 'What was that last one?'

Marion turned to him and smiled bitterly. 'You heard me. Come on now, Indy. You're friends with the Sovereign of the Century. You didn't really think the Ramons were mortal, did you? Leo was one of Orellana's men. Why do you think he hates Akator so much?'

Indy closed his eyes and threw his arm over them. 'Figures.' He was silent for a few minutes before it occurred to him. He lifted his arm enough so he could see her. 'How'd you know I was friends with Nick? I never told you.'

'No, he did.' Marion shrugged. 'Turns out nobody immortal approves of this little plot I was born into. He helped me escape from Abner once. That was how he introduced himself, one of your friends.'

Indy blinked in confusion. 'You're mad at me.'

'You. Not your friends.' Marion folded her arms across her chest. 'And let me tell you something, Jones. I'm willing to forgive you if you're willing to tell me why you took off in such a rush. And don't try lying to me. I already know the answer.'

Nick, that damned fink. Indy shook his head angrily. He wanted to touch her. She denied it to him over something she already had. 'Then why do you need me to tell you?'

'Because I want to hear you say it.'

Indy couldn't do that.